


We burnt down our paper house

by tooAFtofunction



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Bully Louis Tomlinson, Crossover, Harry Potter AU, Hogwarts, Homophobia, M/M, Metamorphmagus, Metamorphmagus Harry Styles, Slow Burn, Soft Niall, Veela Zayn Malik, magical au, probably, tw bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25686244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooAFtofunction/pseuds/tooAFtofunction
Summary: 11 year old muggle born Harry spends his birthday visiting the ministry of magic, where he meets the most beautiful boy. There's just one catch, he doesn't know he's a wizard yet.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	1. If the Mitten fits

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that has been sitting in my drafts since the boys broke up, I’m about 3 chapters in and am posting to hold myself accountable to actually finishing this series. 
> 
> This is by no means a professional work, I’m doing 1 edit pass and its being lightly beta’d by another writer and 1d stan so please excuse any grammatical errors or formatting issues. I will be adding more to the tags and summary as the story unfolds. 
> 
> Disclaimer that i do not own the 1d boys as interesting as that would be, nor do i own the mess that is the Harry Potter universe. This is simply meant for fun and not for profit, notoriety or exploitation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11 year old Harry gets lost in London on his birthday.

Snow gently swirls across the pavement in front of him. 

An impassive dance of flakes bunching along the curbs and gathering in the doorways of London. London, such a beautifully cold place. The houses and shops hunkered against the elements, the scattering of people shielding their faces from the cold, quickening their pace as they pass, rushing to reach their warmer destinations. 

And Harry, marveling in it all. His right hand chilly since he lost his mitten, the mitten that had been clutched in his mother's hand. 

They had come into London to celebrate Harry’s birthday, woken up early and taken the train from Holmes Chapel to Euston station. He loved the train, watching the houses and trees go by, people climbing on at each stop. Harry gave them their own life stories in his head, each living completely separate lives to his but somehow brought here to this moment with him, only to disappear a few stops later. 

Harry realizes he should be terrified, now that he's alone and lost in the heart of a city he’s always considered to be quite big . But he feels oddly calm. The world hasn't ended, there aren't sirens blaring or helicopters searching for him. Harry’s just fine, walking slowly down a side street of London in the snow. 

He quite likes the snow, maybe he’ll make a snow angel if the opportunity arises. 

As he walks along the neat brick houses melt into industrial buildings, each one taller and more impenetrable than the last. He should have taken his own advice of 10 mins prior, knocked on the door of one of the houses, and found a family to call his mom for him. He should turn back, but he doesn’t. 

Harry can feel his own heartbeat pattering against the soft cotton of the inside of his t-shirt, his knitted sweater slightly scratchy around his throat.

Any other 11 year old might be panicking in this moment, first real trip to London and completely lost. Maybe they would be desperately trying to get back to their family, maybe even crying a little. Tears quietly rolling down their face as they attempted to simultaneously hide from the embarrassment and call attention to the fact that they are lost. 

But not Harry, his whole life, the meager 11 years he's existed on this planet, he's been....odd. 

At age 8 he shot up to 160cm and counting, if the nicknames about his height weren't bad enough, his classmates teased him relentlessly about the one thing he couldn't change about himself. Divorce. His biological father had left their family when he was a baby, leaving Harry’s mother to raise him. Harry guesses that his classmates just didn't understand since most of them had both parents. But that didn’t make the “you don’t have a dad” jabs any less hurtful. 

But Harry moved past that, had forgiven them so he could fit in, he’d always been a forgiving person. His sister, Gemma, told him so anyway. He kind of wishes Gemma was here, she would know what to do, recognize some obscure landmark, laugh and pull Harry along. Her long dark hair flowing over her shoulder. But she’s not 

Then, as if his height weren't already something to set him apart from his peers, there's always the slight problem of his ever changing eyes. Not just his eye color, but the shape and dimension, seemingly changing according to his every mood. His mother had told him it was just a genetic abnormality but Harry liked to think of it as a sign he was always destined to be different, destined to do great things one day. 

A gold glimmer on the pavement in front of him pulls him from his reverie. 

A fat golden coin is sat on the sidewalk before him, face up and everything , begging to be scooped up. Which Harry does, a curious object it is. Gold. Solid gold he suspects, not that he’s ever held solid gold but he likes to pretend. He feels his eyes flash gold for a moment at the thought. The face of a strange woman and strange writings stare back at him from around the circumference. Nothing like any coin he's ever come across in his lifetime. 

Now every good English boy knows that the first thing he should do in any intense situation is ring his mum. Harry doesn't have a cell phone but as if answering his thoughts a phone box appears a few yards in front of him. He hadn’t noticed it before but is grateful none the less. Patting down his pockets, Harry realizes the only money he has is the strange coin he just acquired and he begrudgingly hopes that this phone booth will take it. 

Kicking up the fluffy snow that has settled on the ground in front of him Harry makes his way over to the phone box. The snowflakes seem to almost dance away in bright sparkling swirls.

“Must be a trick of the light” Harry thinks, before gripping the door handle and pulling. 

Harry only vaguely notices the remarkable condition of the phone box before barricading himself inside. 

The box is unnaturally warm for a February morning, Harry briefly scans for a heat source before reaching for the coin. It's shiny and smooth and solid in his hand. Harry is only slightly surprised at the rotary phone before him, he’s only seen this kind once and he’s not sure he knows exactly how to use it. But there is a perfectly shaped slot right next to the rotary dial that this coin slides neatly into. 

Nothing happens. 

Up until this point Harry hasn't panicked but the lack of dial tone sets him on edge. The number for their house is burned into his brain but he knows no one will be home at this hour and something pulls at Harry's subconscious. Says not to dial for his mother to come find him. 

At an impasse Harry pauses, unsure of exactly what he should dial. 999 seems a little too dramatic and his mother would end his freedom jaunt a little too soon. In that moment a bit of graffiti catches his eye, the only mark on the otherwise pristine phone box. M A G I C, the letters spaced evenly apart and not fully connected, their creator intending for them to stand alone. 

He's already dialed the first three letters before realizing what he's doing, the dial wheel cold and metallic as it cuts into his fingertip. At the whirl of the final dial a mechanical whirring erupts from all around him and a woman's voice emerges as if she were standing in the phone box alongside him. 

"Welcome to the Ministry for Magic, visitor's entrance. Please state your name and business." 

Harry starts, wide eyed and hesitant "I'm Harry....." He begins. "Just Harry"

"And I guess I'm lost"

"Thank you, JUST HARRY, please take the badge and affix it clearly to the outside of your clothing" 

In that moment a small silver badge shoots out of the return coin slot, retrieving it Harry can see that in small neat letters is written; 

Name: Just Harry

Purpose: Lost

Harry affixes the badge to the front of his jumper, the moment he does the entire phone box shakes violently and begins to descend. Terrified Harry attempts to open the door but he's already halfway submerged and the sidewalk outside continues to disappear. 

The walls around him are dark and colorless, the only light coming from the phone box itself. 

Just as Harry thinks that the end is near, that he's been swallowed by some sinkhole never to return, a ring of light appears around the bottom of the phone box. Slowly it creeps it's way up his legs, spreading up across his chest and finally consuming the entire phone box, blinding him. Shielding his eyes as they adjust to the light Harry realizes he is not in fact in a sinkhole, but in what seems to be an underground building of sorts. 

Carefully and not fully sure that he's not dreaming, Harry opens the door to the box and steps out. 

Organized chaos unfolds before him, he’s in a large black tiled room, with a seemingly never ending ceiling. Men and women in long flowing garments stride purposefully toward a set of lifts, some milling around, some heading one after the other into a row of massive fireplaces, all lit with sparkling bright green flames. 

Harry rubs his eyes, he has to be dreaming. 

He turns on the spot intending to re-enter the phone box from whence he came. Only to find the phone box has all but disappeared. 

With no way to go back Harry's only option is to go forward, following the herd of people making their way to the gilded lifts. Harry would like to think that someone in this massive crowd of people would spot a bewildered and lost looking 11 year old but Harry is coming to the conclusion he might not be the strangest sight here. 

The black tiles of the room glimmer as Harry is ushered forward into an expectant lift. Harry begins to protest but the sharp glare of a stunningly beautiful man in dark green robes and pointed ears behind him stops his words in his throat. 

Not wanting to be caught trespassing on private property Harry stays silent, but the man's eyes continue to flicker to him, flashing a bright gold. 

Harry squishes himself against the side of the lift in an attempt to make himself appear as small as possible. He can feel the man's eyes resting on the back of his head and he doesn't know why he suddenly feels so uncomfortable. 

The golden doors close fully and Harry's entire world lurches sideways as the lift is hurdles violently to the left. None of the other occupants seem disturbed at the frighteningly horizontal nature of the lift so this must be normal. 

The lift gives an all mighty shudder and clang and abruptly stops. "Department of Magical Transportation" says the metallic voice from around them, 

Unsure of what to do next Harry remains on the elevator, along with the pointy eared man while several people in robes of various colors pass and several more get on. In Harry's haste to go unnoticed he himself had failed to fully note the people around him. All dressed rather strangely, in ornate and colorful garments, speaking in words that Harry didn't fully understand. 

"I swear this deal with the goblins better go through or Granger will have my head" Harry hears an older woman to his left complain as the elevator doors close. 

"I don't care what Malfoy said, protocol is protocol, we cannot tamper with broomsticks even for a noble cause" says another to his right as the elevator jerks into motion once more. 

"Dressed in muggle attire as well, kids these days. Shame they're letting the old wizarding ways die out" He hears from directly behind him. 

It's the last bit of conversation that Harry really gives attention to, sparing a backward glance at a pair of women behind him. Were they talking about him? He's dressed normally, but in comparison to the strangers around him he guesses he must look out of place. More paranoid by the second he steals a look up at the statuesque pointy eared man who is now scrutinizing him with a golden critical eye. 

The lift comes to a halt in that moment, doors sliding open with a clang. 

"Department of Magical Games and Sports" says the mystery woman. 

Harry feels a hand on his shoulder, turns and looks into the beautiful and terrifying face of the golden eyed stranger who is just opening his mouth to probably ask Harry what he’s doing here. Harry feels his eyes flash from their current light brown to the man’s own bright gold, then the deep green of the man's robes,and back to brown, this startles the man and gives Harry enough time to make his escape, pushing past the man and fleeing into the corridor ahead. 

If Harry had found the people in this place strange it's nothing compared to the room ahead, he's in a short hallway filled with nothing but brooms mounted on the walls. Rows and rows of brooms of varying sizes and shapes with elaborate handles, seats and hardware. Before him are several doors each set in the same plain brown wood, just as he's contemplating which one to choose he hears a shout from behind him. 

Whirling around Harry spots the gold eye man not but a few meters away, accompanied by a few ominous looking men in black robes. Gold eye man points in his direction while motioning to the large men to follow. 

Recognizing he has little time to make a plan Harry picks the nearest door and dives head first through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and suggestions if you feel like it, I’m only a few chapters ahead at the moment and have a loose idea of where i want to go with the plot. End game is Larry but I’m open to how we get there and am considering going dramatic and angsty.


	2. The Ministry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets someone unexpected as he begins his magical birthday adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up that if you're not a potterhead you probably won't understand some of the background setting and lingo, apologies in advance.
> 
> I have also made the executive decision that underage wizards can do magic in large magical settings because the ministry can't tell who is doing the magic when so many wizards are together. Also Louis is not doing wandless magic, Harry just doesn't realize what's happening yet and doesnt see the wand.

Harry wasn't sure what he was expecting but it certainly wasn't this.

The room he just entered is entirely decked out in red. 

Streamers hang from the ceiling, banners printed with GO FLY ENGLAND, ribbons, balloons, even red fireworks are somehow erupting from the ceiling. England is represented in some form on every surface so Harry assumes this is a sports team or club of some kind. 

He gives little thought to the magical fireworks as he makes his way deeper into the room, or to the fact that they're underground yet there is sunlight streaming in through the open window in front of him. 

Confusion settles for only a moment, as the door behind Harry opens once more and the gold eye man is back followed by his henchmen. From where Harry is standing he is hidden by a particularly large rack of broomsticks, they haven't spotted him yet, he crouches down and backs slowly away from the door. 

Harry gets about 5 paces when his luck runs out. Unaccustomed to his lanky frame he runs into a table piled high with sport gloves of some sort and they all go tumbling to the ground taking a bewildered Harry with them. 

Harry lies there under the sporting equipment accepting his uncertain fate in the hands of the strange and beautiful gold eyed man. 

Footsteps approach, but they're not the heavy metallic ones he was expecting, they're soft and friendly and cinnamon scented. A warm hand grasps his own and a quick sharp young voice whispers into his ear. 

"Lay still and play along will you?" A hint of mischief laced into it. 

Harry has no option other than to lie on the floor of the strange red magical office, covered in gloves and being chased by a strange man, he decides to play along. 

Heavy footsteps approach and stop before the glove/Harry pile.

"I thought you might be involved Louis” A deep baritone Harry assumes belongs to the man chasing him "You have a knack for finding trouble don't you.” 

"I can't say I know what you're talking about, Yasser" his rescuer retorts. The man snorts through his nose like this isn't the first time they've had this conversation. 

"Of course Louis, trouble finds you, my Zayn knows that all too well" the man says, a much softer, almost fatherly tone to his voice. 

"Speaking of Zayners" Louis begins, "Where is he? Thought even he would roll out of bed for take your child to the ministry day, my mum has been talking about it for weeks"

"Was that today?” Yasser asks, as if suddenly coming to a point of clarity, his tone now flooded with understanding. 

“Merlin's beard must have slipped my mind, I'll pop over by floo when I get back to my desk.” Yasser says, intensity fading from his voice. Hopefully already forgetting about Harry. 

Nothing happens for a moment, and Harry considers moving but thinks that Louis will let him know when the coast is clear. The gloves he’s piled under smell strongly of oiled leather and cedar and he’s been holding in a cough, just as he's about to Yasser speaks. 

“Louis, have this cleaned up by the time I return” Yasser says finally, followed by the sound of the door opening then shutting. Harry swallows his cough. 

Harry was just finding the perfect spot to become accustomed to his leathery cocoon when he is suddenly upright again, Louis having evidently decided that Yasser was no longer a threat. And Harry comes face to face with his rescuer. 

“Are you alright?” Louis asks? But Harry’s brain isn’t functioning. 

This is it. Harry thinks. That moment that grown ups talk about. 

His mum and sister and all the romantic movies call it love at first sight. Harry thinks it's more like when he falls off the pommel horse at gymnastics. The moment after he loses his center of gravity and his body strikes the ground with all the kinetic energy that he’s built up. The breath forced out of his chest and for one small moment he’s sure he'd died. 

In this moment Harry’s eyes aren’t focusing and all he can hear is a roar, like waves crashing onto a rocky shoreline. It could potentially be a concussion but he can’t remember the last time he hit his head… which is quite worth celebrating but Harry can’t focus on that right now as he notices Louis’ mouth moving. 

Louis gives Harry a soft but hesitant smile “Hey I’m Louis, Are you alright?” 

And then just like that. The breath returns to his lungs and his whole world comes back together. In that moment and in this one. 

The light streaming in from the underground window hits Louis’ face at just the right angle to turn his caramel colored hair golden at the ends. He looks to be a little older than Harry, about 13 maybe. His skin is tanned a deep golden brown, proof of the time he’s spent outdoors playing whatever sport they play in this universe. His eyes are a crystalline blue and set in an angular face that coupled with his height, Harry is about a head taller than him, makes him a dead ringer for Peter Pan. 

Harry feels like his heart might fall out of his arse. Or maybe it's been there all along. Either way Harry knows that this magical boy is the most wonderful thing he’s ever met and he doesn’t even know if he’s real. 

Harry's brain and mouth finally seem to be catching up to one another. 

“Yes, Hi, Harr-rry” he stutters. “ Me, I, I’m Harry” 

“Just Harry?” Louis questions playfully, pointing to the badge affixed to Harry’s green knitted jumper. 

“Yeah, that’s me, just Harry”, Harry blushes a deep crimson and averts his eyes. 

“Hey” Louis says softly, following Harry’s gaze so they keep eye contact, Harry gets all tingly at that. 

“I didn't mean anything by it, just reading your badge. If you managed to escape the head of magical law enforcement then you must be pretty special.” Louis says. 

Harry looks up at the complement and hold’s Louis’ gaze. Involuntarily he feels his eyes shift to mirror Yasser’s deep golden cat eyes. 

To Louis’ credit he only allows a tiny amount of shock to show on his face before he lifts a hand to Harry’s cheek to brush the soft skin under his eye. 

“Incredible.” He whispers softly, more to himself than to Harry. At the touch Harry’s eyes change again, this time to Louis’ crystal blue. 

“You’re a metamorph”, awe audible in his voice. 

“I’m a what?” Harry replies, still dazed by Louis’ soft hand on his face. 

“A Metamorph, well metamorphmargis,” Louis explains, removing his hand and crouching to pick up a few of the fallen gloves. “You can change your appearance at will”

“Umm. Maybe?” Harry responds, “my eyes are the only thing that change and it just kind of happens” 

“Well have your parents taken you to St. Mungos for placement?” Louis asks, starting to pass Harry glove after glove to place on the table. 

“St. Mungos?” Harry asks, “Placement?” Stacking the gloves in a pyramid formation on the table. 

“Yeah, didn't they take you when you started showing signs? I heard that some Metamorphs need more practice than others” Louis says, increasing the speed of his hand offs to the point where Harry doesn’t think he can keep up much longer. 

“My mum says it’s a genetic disorder, they took me to St. Pancras but the tests were inconclusive.” Harry says, arms piled high with gloves teetering on the edge of disaster. 

“St. Pancras? As in muggle London?” Louis stands up suddenly pushing the last set of gloves into Harry’s already overflowing arms. Harry staggers a bit at the sudden movement, shifting his weight to accommodate the stack and holds it together until the last second when his fawn legs give out and he loses his balance bracing for all those glove to come tumbling down.

But they don’t. 

Louis gives him a hard discerning look, waves his hands around and the gloves float gracefully out of his grasp and onto the table.

“You’re a muggle? Louis asks accusingly. You can’t do magic?” With his hands on his hips, and eyes piercing, Louis’ sharp tone makes Harry feel like his welcome has just run out so he backs away from Louis slowly, figuring he can escape back through the door if necessary. 

“‘M sorry” Harry pleads. “I didn’t mean anything by it..” His voice is quavering, he doesn’t want to cry, he won’t cry Just like he does with the bullies at school, Harry knows he must show no fear. Show. No. Fear. 

But Louis is coming closer with that unchanging questioning glare and Harry feels his wall breaking. Just wants someone on his side for once. He has to look down to meet Louis’ eyes but somehow he feels smaller than before. 

“I can go get Yasser if you don’t want to tell me what you’re doing here?” Louis threatens, bringing his arms to cross his puffed up chest. It’s then that Harry breaks. 

“Ilostmymomandjustfoundthecoinandwastryingtocallsomeoneandendeduphereandthatscarypointyearmanstartedchasingmeandthenimetyouandyousavedmeandyou’rethemostbeautifulpersoni’veevermetandi’mjustatallfreakwithweirdeyesthatnoonelikesandandand.. and it’s my birthday” Harry says in one breath, voice cracking halfway through. 

He’s hysterical at this point and he can feel himself losing control of his eyes, shuffling through a series of different shapes and colors as he talks, tears pooling at the corners. 

Louis’ demeanor instantly changes with Harry’s confession. The whole tough exterior melts away as he crowds up against Harry, rubbing soothing circles on his arms and somehow enveloping him completely despite their height difference. 

“Hey hey, sorry, I can be a bit rude sometimes” Louis explains, pressing Harry into the cool linen of his shirt. “I’m just not used to seeing muggles in the ministry, come to think of it you might be the first ever to visit on accident.” He lifts Harry’s face with a finger to his chin to make eye contact. “How about a tour to make you feel better and get you out of here?” 

Harry sniffles and mulls it over. He doesn’t want to leave this dream boy, but he also needs to find his mum and let her know he’s okay. Harry nestles deeper into Louis’s embrace, inhales the sweet cinnamon scent, let’s out a sigh of acceptance and nods. 

“That’s a good lad” Louis says brightly, giving Harry’s hair a gentle ruffle, pulling at the springy bits that curl up around his ears. Louis pulls away from the embrace and absolutely beams at him, takes both his thumbs and wipes the remnants of tears from under Harry’s eyes. 

“Now! Have you ever seen a unicorn?” Louis asks? A wild gleam in his eyes that wasn’t there before as he grabs Harry by the hand and leads him enthusiastically toward the door. 

____

Harry’s brain might actually explode. Louis’ comprehensive tour had shown him more in an hour than he may have experienced in his entire life; he's not sure whether he should cry or laugh or pinch himself. 

Louis led him by the hand through corridors and passageways of every shape and size, on and off the scary metal lifts and back again. Until Harry was dizzy from the feeling. 

Louis took him first to a sunlit and grassy floor, marked by an intricate wooden gate which read “The Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures” to see the baby unicorn rehabilitation unit. They were tiny, either gold or silver with miniature horns covered in bandages and salves, and took an instant liking to Harry, falling asleep in and around his lap with their downy soft snouts tickling his arms and legs. Their caretaker, a beautiful dark haired woman with very familiar gold eyes, looking at Harry with wonder explained that it was very rare for unicorns to take a liking to human men at all, let alone during nap time, concluding that Harry must be a very special wizard. 

Harry didn't know what she meant by that but he didn't ask questions. He’s not a wizard. He doesn’t think. 

They carefully snuck into what Harry would call a broom cupboard in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, filled with random household items that seemed to have minds of their own. Harry couldn’t see what was so special about a room filled with broken toasters, self pouring tea sets and quacking rubber duckies. Louis on the other hand starred at each item with wonder and reverie. 

On multiple occasions it looked like he wanted to ask Harry a question but thought better of it. Meeting Harry’s eye and looking away the moment they flashed his bright blue. 

Roles reversed when Louis led them to the Department of Magical Transportation where a group of salesmen were demonstrating this year’s latest model of brooms.

Not the sleek and shiny models mounted to the wall that Harry had seen back when he was chased by Yasser, but sturdy multi-seat brooms that were obviously meant for long distance travel. The idea. Even the idea of flying, traveling by broomstick, sent butterflies through the whole of Harry’s body, and he told Louis as much. 

Louis rolled his eyes smiling, “You can’t even go fast with one of those” he whispered in Harry’s ear. Slipping his hand into Harry’s once more and attempting to drag him away. 

Harry felt his eyes flash Louis’ bright blue as he turned to follow, but a different sensation distracted him, he felt himself blush. But if the look on Louis’ face was any indication it was anything but normal. 

“You have hearts on your cheeks” Louis stated, turning his face so that Harry wouldn't see he was blushing as well. 

He dragged Harry over to a shiny black polished section of wall, and reflected upon it’s stony surface was Harry. His eyes a light honey brown, almost hidden under his mop of curls, his pronounced nose and lips starting to look normal after his growth spurt, and there they were, a dozen or so tiny little love hearts scattered across his cheeks. 

“This is new,” Harry thought, concentrating hard on the hearts. And as quickly as they came they disappeared. 

Louis’ hand once again took his, and they were off! 

Their last stop was Harry’s favorite, aside from the unicorns of course. 

Louis led them back to the metal lifts where Harry had first entered the ministry, but instead of moving forward into the main area Louis veered left, leading Harry to a small colorful stand tucked behind one of the massive pillars. 

The aged sign fixed to the stand reads, “Honeydukes”, in green and pink swirling letters. 

Harry could feel his eyes flash a multitude of colors to correspond to the absolute explosion of colorful candies, wrappers, boxes and ribbons covering every surface inside the bustling shop. A pair of shop workers stood at the front of the store surrounded by trails of colorful sparks, boxes and sweets flying through the air and wrapping themselves neatly to attend to the small queue of people. 

“It’s bigger on the inside” Harry wondered aloud, as indeed the tiny stand stuffed under the pillar didn’t look to have been more than a few meters deep from the outside, Harry could have never imagined he’d be entering an entire sweet shop, complete with an entire kitchen filled with dozens of bakers and sweetmakers. 

‘Of course it is, ' says Louis, how else would they get fresh baked strawberry cream puffs to celebrate your birthday!” Pulling two massive cream puffs in the shape of swans out from behind his back. The blonde girl behind the counter gives Louis a wink and a smile. 

“Ruth overbakes a few for me and my sisters when she knows mum can’t get someone to watch the kids” Louis states, moving towards a small bench hidden beside the shop. 

Harry thinks that Louis must spend quite a bit of time here, seeing how he has such a run of the place. Harry doesn’t press the matter. 

“You have sisters?” Harry asks instead. Thinking about his sister Gemma away at boarding school as he takes a giant bite of the strawberry swan. 

“Four, all younger” Louis says with a hint of exasperation in his voice, but by the way his eyes light up Harry thinks that Louis is just feigning annoyance.

“Wow,” Harry says through a mouthful of whipped cream, “ I thought I had it bad with one” his eyes flashing a playful strawberry red. 

Louis laughs and takes a giant bite of his swan. 

“ I’m the man of the house” Louis says proudly “someone has to help mum out with the girls” he finishes determinately. Harry, again, doesn't press the matter. 

“Mum!” Harry suddenly realizes with a sinking feeling! “I bet she's worried sick, I must have been gone for ages” Standing up as he feels his eyes flash a dangerous red. 

“ Louis” Harry says, turning to meet his eyes, “this has been the most unbelievable birthday I’ve ever had, but I have to get home!” 

Understanding the seriousness of the matter, Louis’ playful demeanor disappears as he quickly stands and waves away the remnants of their cream puffs scanning their surroundings . “There’s only one way to get you there fast” Louis says. “Floo!”

Louis grabs Harry by the hand and they sprint through the crowds of people. Louis may not have Harry’s long legs but he moves fluidly through the crowd and stops in front of a set of giant fireplaces aglow with strange green flames. 

“Okay Harold” Louis says matter a fact, his hands on his hips. “Do you have a fireplace at home?” 

“...yes? ” Harry responds. 

“Is it in a room that your mum would be in right now?” Louis continues. 

“...I don’t think so .” Harry says, knowing that his mum rarely sits in the front room unless they’re receiving guests. He figures she’s also out looking for him. 

“Right, the moment the coast is clear” Louis says, putting both hands on Harry’s shoulders and locking eyes “you are going to think of home with all your heart..” he continues. 

“Okay....” Harry says, eyes meeting Louis's and for once remaining his own emerald green. 

“And Harry this is very important, do you trust me? Louis says, a manic tinge to his voice.

Harry thinks about the last few hours with Louis, about his laugh earlier when Harry got bitten by a particularly emotional teacup, about his obvious love and protectiveness for his family, and his willingness to help a muggle like himself. And says “Yes, I trust you” 

“That’s a good lad” Louis says, looking away, Harry assumes, to determine if the coast is clear. Louis steps closer, and with his hands still on Harry’s shoulders Harry is forced to step back to stay at arm's length. 

“Are you thinking of home?” Louis asks, taking another step, “Really thinking of home?”

Harry gives him a confused look as he takes another step back, “yes I’m thinking of home..”

And before Harry can fully finish his sentence Louis takes one last step, causing Harry to step backwards into the green flames of the nearest fireplace. 

“See you at Ho....” and one final glance of bright blue eyes is all Harry manages to catch of Louis as the walls around him spin out of sight. 

And just like that Harry is standing in his house, in the sitting room fireplace, a little soot covered and feeling very motion sick. But he’s home. 

He hears the front door open, he stands up and makes his way into the hall calling out “Mum, is that you?” 

“Harry?!” He hears his mum shout, and there she is, still in the same clothes that she wore out shopping this morning. Tear stains visible down her cheeks and a cell phone in her hand. 

“He’s at the house Robin!! You were right!” She cries happily into the phone.

“I’ll call you back.” She says hanging up and instantly wrapping her arms around Harry. 

I was so worried she said kissing every part of his face. As soon as she stops trying to kiss him to death she takes a good look at him. 

“Harry, why are you covered in soot? Where is your other glove? And what color are your eyes even” She asks, the mother in her dialing up past 10. Harry opens his mouth to respond but she stops him. 

“No, I don't even want to know. Go wash up or we’ll be late for your birthday dinner! Robin is meeting us there” 

Harry is relieved that she doesn’t seem to be that interested in how he managed to get home, only that he’s safe now. That’s one thing he loves about his mum, she doesn’t ask that many questions and loves unconditionally. 

He smiles. “Of course mum” and makes his way to his room to change out of his soiled jumper. 

Harry can hear her making her way back down the hallway, stopping to remove her shoes and coat and collect the mail. 

“Harry dear” she shouts as Harry is getting into the shower “when you’re done washing up you’ve got a letter” 

“Who’s it from?” Harry asks, shouting over the sound of the water. 

“It doesn’t say, must be a birthday card. It's quite heavy. It’s not every day that a young man turns eleven now is it?” She responds, heading to her room to change and get ready for dinner. 

She’s right, Harry thinks, his mind full of thoughts of wondrous creatures, and magical appliances, and bright blue eyes, it’s not every day that you turn eleven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you liked it and what the next chapters should include. i've got a vague plot outlined but only a few scenes written mostly about Harry's metamorph abilities


	3. You're a Wizard Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Harold arrives at Hogwarts and finds that even in the wizarding world people can be cruel or kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot has happened in a few months and I lost my beta as she's in school and doing finals so this is tragically edited and the verb tenses are abysmal. But I hope you like the story and where it's headed!

They say your first night at Hogwarts is always the most magical. 

Time herself stands still when you catch your first glimpse of the curving turrets and towers of the castle. 

Your heart speeds up upon entering the star bathed great hall. 

Your stomach ties itself in knots as you are sorted into your house, 

And finally, after the sorting, you feel a sense of peace and belonging knowing that you are among family. 

And Harry agrees. 

He felt all those things and more on his first night and still does to some extent. Truly loves Hogwarts and feels like he finally has somewhere to belong. But Harry assumed that with the magical answer that he's not weird, he's a wizard, that the day to day teasing would stop.

And it did somewhat. He now knows that his height and eye color are due to his magical abilities and not a genetic condition, but two days in and he’s still getting stares and comments from fellow classmates. Sometimes it’s his height, or his changing eye color, or his quick growing curls, mostly people seem well intentioned so he likes to assume they are just curious but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

He supposes it’s his own fault, it’s not like he’s told anyone about his abilities, Louis might have told people, but he hasn’t seen Louis since the sorting ceremony and that had been a bit of a train wreck. 

When Professor Cowell, the defense against the dark arts teacher, had called Harry’s name he had frozen, not in fear, but in concentration. It had taken all of Harry’s collective power over his ability to not have his face give him away. 

While the entire hall and Harry waited for him to come to his senses and move, they were distracted by a loud wolf whistle. Both he and Professor Cowell had turned in the direction of the sound to see a sheepish Louis quickly duck back down into the sea of black robes. 

Professor Cowell had tutted and said “thank you master Tomlinson, for that warm welcome to, Styles, Harry” 

Harry had smiled at that, swallowed down any and all lingering fear, and made his way to be sorted. The hat had just barely touched his head when it shouted “Hufflepuff” and he had been shown to a table of black and yellow clad cheering students. He noted that Louis’ table was two tables away, and if he shifted a tiny bit to the left he could see the top of his crooked hat, and that his last name must be Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson. Harry hadn’t seen Louis since. 

Upon being sorted into Hufflepuff he had met some really nice boys around his age. All buzzing with the excitement of attending Hogwarts. 

There were five boys total in his year, the blonde and red faced Niall was quickly becoming his favorite, laughing at all his jokes and practically screaming the entirety of the welcome feast. Josh and Ed both a bit more subdued but equally nice and a tall dark haired boy named Max had made it clear that he was to be the leader of their year of Hufflepuffs. 

Harry thought Max to be rather serious and intense at least in comparison to the rest of them but he was happy to listen to Max drone on about his summer if it meant that no one paid too much attention to Harry. Max did seem to be particularly interested in including Harry though, which Harry thought was nice of him. Whenever a question was asked Max made a point to ask Harry directly what he thought and seemed to be actually listening to his answer. 

By the time the feast ended and the students headed back to their dormitory Harry was so full and sleepy that he barely noticed where they were heading. Down into the dungeons. But not the eerie cold part, the warm and welcoming hall next to the kitchens. Where they entered through a large empty barrel and into a long earthen corridor to the Hufflepuff common room. 

Despite the general sleepiness from the group, everyone was deeply impressed when they reached the common room, apparently the other first year Hufflepuffs share Harry’s love of plants and cozy because there was a murmur of excitement at the sight of hundreds of plants and reading nooks around the cozy common room. 

Harry was immediately overwhelmed with a sense of Tolkien nostalgia, his eyes flashing a soft yellow for a moment before they were shown to their beds. 

When they reached the dormitories Niall chose a four poster bed next to Harry who had settled in the alcove closest to the door. Harry had chosen this bed partially because he could hide his face to the wall if needed, and partially because the patchwork quilt on the bed had multiple snow white swans swimming on a blue lake and it had reminded Harry of Louis, eyes flashing a lovely blue, not quite Louis’ but not not Louis’. 

Niall flopped down on Harry’s bed immediately and beckoned for him to join. Harry was never one to turn down a cuddle and Niall seemed like the cuddling type so he flopped on top of him, limbs somehow getting tangled on the way down. 

“ya know if you’re that clumsy you’re going to need someone to help you survive Hogwarts” Niall laughed. Harry didn’t know if Niall could sense that Harry would have trouble or if he had caught onto how his eyes had been changing every 10 mins, but he knew an olive branch when he saw one and he was grateful. 

“You know, I think you’re right, know anyone up for the job?.” Harry responded, smiling and managing to untangle himself and settle into Niall’s outstretched arms

As it turned out Niall was a great choice in friend, they talked for hours, about their families back home, about what classes they were nervous about, about what they were going to wear on their first day and everything else in between. Niall had moved on to discussing the finer points of his broomstick and Harry’s eyes were just about fluttering shut when Max entered the dormitory, his dark hair ruffled and eyes bright. 

He took one look at Harry and Niall and snorted moving off to his own four poster. 

“You boys better not let anyone catch you like that” He quipped over his shoulder, “people might get the wrong idea, might think you’re up to something.” 

Harry wasn’t a stranger to snide comments but that didn’t make it any easier for him, but just as he was about to say something Niall cut him off. 

“What’s wrong Maxy? You too tough to cuddle?” Niall said playfully, pulling Harry closer in what would appear as a comforting gesture but Harry could feel Niall’s hands clenched tight. 

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Max retorted, walking back towards Niall and Harry, surveying the boys with a scrutinizing eye. “ I would call it g-” 

“ONly real tough guys can cuddle Max,” Niall spat, cutting him off and pushing himself off the bed and to his full height, face to face with Max. For a moment Harry thought he might have to break up a fight on his first night but thankfully after an intense stare down both boys burst into laughter. 

“Well I’m here when you’re ready to be a tough guy” Niall laughed, grabbing Max around the neck and pulling him into a deep headlock to ruffle his dark hair further. Laughing Max struggled to escape his grasp and the tension was cut, both boys returning to their own beds. 

Harry smiled at the pair as they went but didn’t let either of them see that his eyes had changed to a deep sorrowful blue. Figures that nothing would change even when he finds out he’s a wizard. 

The boys all got ready for bed, the excitement and exhaustion of the day hitting them one by one as the curtains close, Harry drew his own, kicked off his jeans and t-shirt before crawling under the soft and worn quilt and falling straight into dreamless sleep. 

-

It’s his second day of classes at Hogwarts and so far Harry has made it through unscathed. He’s only gotten lost once on his way to transfiguration and only three people have gawked at his height so he counts that as a win. 

His only remaining class is potions, with the Slytherins, Hagrid had given him a brief breakdown of the houses before he arrived and he’s apprehensive but hopeful. Hopeful that the student's of Slytherin house will be more like him, sweet and nice, and not looking for trouble. And maybe someone will know Louis so he can say hello. 

Harry takes the somewhat familiar path to the dungeons but veers away from his dormitory and the kitchens, to Professor Slughorn’s potions classroom. The classroom is cold and unfriendly in comparison to the Hufflepuff dormitory but Harry just hopes to make it through the lesson without incident. 

While an older gentleman, Professor Slughorn turns out to be quite a captivating teacher, speaking passionately about potions as an art and what they could expect in his class. Harry is so enraptured by the lesson that he forgets to be nervous when the Professor begins to pair off the class for their first attempt at potions making. 

Much to both their disdain, Professor Slughorn pairs him not with Niall seated next to him but with an attractive Slytherin boy named Titus for their getting to know your cauldron activity. He seems nice enough, if not a bit loud, yelling back and forth with another Slytherin first year as he makes his way over to Harry’s cauldron, Niall switching places with him and immediately laughing loudly with Titus’ friend. 

Titus nods at Harry in acknowledgement but otherwise both boys are silent as they collect the required materials to begin. 

He does let Harry stoke the fire with his wand and commends him when the flames change from red to blue as instructed. Harry has to act quick to hide his face as he feels his eyes flash a fiery red in response, he’s usually pretty good at hiding them but his thoughts are on potions not on his appearance. 

Harry thinks Titus might have noticed something strange but Harry’s eyes are back to green before he can say anything. Harry wills his palms to stop sweating but doesn’t know if his abilities include all bodily functions. 

As it turns out Harry is pretty good around a cauldron and a beaming Professor Slughorn awards Hufflepuff 5 points for his quality cauldron care, Harry beams back and swears his skin begins to give off a faint golden glow but it disappears before he can get a good look. 

Titus was definitely staring for that fun revelation but Harry pretends it's the house points and not his freakish skin. 

At the end of the lesson Slughorn informs them that these pairs will be their potions partners for the remainder of the semester and to expect to get down to business next lesson. 

A low chatter begins as the students gather their things and file out of the classroom. Harry must not have freaked out Titus after all because the dark hair boy approaches him with a friendly wave. 

“Are you headed to dinner?” Titus asks, running a hand through his sleek fringe, flicking it out of his face and waiting coolly for a response. 

“Uhhhh…. Yeah.. probably” Harry says in way of an eloquent response, mirroring Titus’ motions. He’s still not sure what Titus’ end game is but he’s optimistic about making a new friend. 

“We can go together yeah?” Titus says matter of factly. Harry isn’t bothered either way and nods his agreement, sliding the last of his books into his bag and heads out of the dungeons with Titus leading the way. 

As they make their way up to the great hall Harry finds out that Titus is actually really interesting, his parents had sent him off to a summer sport program somewhere called Ilvermorny and he’d excelled and been offered a spot for the upcoming year. His parents had decided they didn’t want him so far from home or his relatives in Japan so it was either Hogwarts or Mahoutokoro. 

Harry asks and finds out that these are all magical schools around the world and vows to go to the library and do some research on magical schooling. 

They reach the great hall and Titus leads them to the farthest table against the wall to a group of boys dressed in green robes seated in the center of the long table. 

And Louis. 

Harry sucks in a soft breath and just barely keeps his eyes from flashing Louis’ blue. 

Louis looks up as they approach, eyes shifting from Titus to Harry, and a smile breaks across his tan face. He waves and beckons them over, Titus smiles and waves back, pulling Harry along. 

“Well if it isn’t Titus Andromeda in the flesh” Louis says, leaning across the table to grasp Titus’ hand in greeting. “How are your brothers doing?’ 

“All well, no one injured at the moment but I'm sure that will change as quidditch season picks up” Titus says, choosing the seat directly opposite Louis and motioning for Harry to sit next to him. 

Harry makes a mental note to look up quidditch and Andromeda as Titus seems to be a big deal, at least with Louis, and takes his seat expectantly. 

“This is Harry Styles” Titus continues, motioning to the group as way of introduction, there are quite a few head nods and hellos from the group but Harry’s eyes are locked on Louis, who turns and meets Harry’s so intensely that he almost misses what Titus says next. 

“He’s a metamorphmagus” Titus explains coolly, “saw his skin and eyes change and everything” Harry rips his gaze from Louis to stare open mouthed and shocked at Titus. 

No one outside of Harry’s family and Louis know about his abilities, Harry doesn't even know if that’s what he is, and he’s not been around wizards long enough to have anyone notice so he’s just taken by surprise. 

Louis looks just as surprised at the statement as he does but recovers faster. 

“ a metamorphmagus you say?” he questions, drawing out the end of his sentence for emphasis and making the other guys in the group snicker. 

“let’s see it then” he finishes, the request sounding more like a dare than anything else. Louis’ eyes hold his, challenging but not unkind. 

Harry is at a loss, he’s never tried his powers on demand before, isn't really sure where to even start but there are several sets of eyes on him expectantly waiting for a show. He feels like some kind of animal on display and that makes him feel gross and also like he’s going to throw up. 

He swallows what little pride he has left and forces a smile onto his face for the group, hoping that a small display of his ability will get them off his back and he can run back to his dorm to recover. 

“Okay then” Harry says, voice wavering a tiny bit but stronger than expected. He concentrates hard on the feeling of his skin, eyes glued on Louis, and the memory of their adventure at the ministry comes flooding into his mind, and at that the boys watching him all burst into laughter. 

“Love hearts?” laughs the brown haired boy next to Louis, pointing at Harry’s face, “ how gay is that?” he continues, the rest of the boys laughing with him. 

And Louis laughs too. He looks mildly uncomfortable but he laughs. 

“Good one, Liam,” Louis says, forcing out another laugh but eyes still locked on Harry. 

Harry can feel his face return to normal, all fight in him gone, he bites his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. 

“But Louis,” Harry starts, keeping his voice soft and even, hoping only Louis will hear him “I thought you would like them..”

That sets the group off even further, Liam howling and pounding on the table with laughter and drawing a few looks from other students, particularly from the Ravenclaw table next to them. 

Louis seems torn, he’s looking between a teary eyed Harry and his howling friends, still reeling with laughter, and seems to make up his mind. 

“I don’t know you mate” comes at last, Louis’ voice haughty and tough but his eyes pleading. 

“I don’t know why you would think that” and for the first time since sitting down Louis won’t meet his eyes, maybe to hide his shame at what he just said or to distance himself further from this feeling. 

Harry really isn’t sure how to react, Titus doesn’t seem to be interested in coming to his defense, Louis has made his stance clear and he doesn't know any of these other boys. Harry’s head is spinning, his heart is beating triple speed and he’s not getting enough oxygen in with each breath. 

He doesn't understand why Louis is acting this way. 

“But at the ministry” Harry tries, “we… w.. we..” but Louis cuts him off. 

“Listen kid, I’ve never met you before and while you seem nice enough you might consider going back to the library where you belong.” Louis says, folding his arms across his chest, his posse nodding in agreement. 

Harry is most definitely going to be sick, his whole body feels cold and lifeless, like all the blood has left him and he’s an empty shell. He attempts to stand and finds that his legs are twisted awkwardly into some unrecognizable shape that is not suited to hold his body weight. He attempts to steady himself but finds that his arms are heavy and rigid at his sides. He goes tumbling backwards over the bench, arms unable to catch his fall. Harry braces himself for impact on the cold hard stone but it doesn't come. 

Instead strong smooth hands catch him and pull him back and away from the still laughing group. Harry can only allow his body to be hauled away by this stranger as at this point he doesn’t think he can move at all. He is completely trapped inside his own body. 

“Fucking asswipes, the lot of you!” comes a powerful and ethereal voice from above him, not quite shouting but the effect is immediate, the entire group cowers at the sound. “he’s been here all of a few days and you’re already fucking with him. Quidditch SCUM” 

Liam physically falls out of his chair and crawls backwards across the floor, while the rest of the table moves away as fast as possible falling over the benches and each other in their attempt to get away. 

Harry’s vision is blurry so can’t see the person now dragging him out of the great hall but they must be incredibly powerful to have that kind of effect. He tries to focus on clearing his vision but what little of himself he can see he doesn’t recognize. There are scales sprouting out of his left side where his shirt has ridden up. His legs look and feel about three sizes larger than normal, straining the seams of his uniform trousers, and his arms are ashen grey dead weights dragging across the ground. 

He thinks he sees feathers but can’t tell if they're his or the boy’s or maybe he’s hallucinating. 

The pair make it out of the great hall before he stops to regroup. The boy propping himself and Harry up on the banister of the staircase to rest. 

“Hey, I'm Zayn,” comes a gentle voice above him, Harry can’t see him but his hand is soft on his arm, starkly different from the mood moments before. 

“I'm here to help, if you’ll let me?” the boy asks moving closer to Harry, voice soft and mellow now, like honey. Harry can just make out bright glowing silver eyes flash before his vision blurs again. 

Harry can’t find his voice but nods the best he can, each motion pained and slow. 

“Are you able to morph back now that we’re away from those idiots?” Zayn asks, voice full of understanding and worry. “It’s okay if not, I just need to know before I make any decisions” 

Harry concentrates on his usual features, a thought that would normally return him to his green eyed, curly haired state but nothing happens. He still feels cold, heavy, and tight, and still can't move his arms from where they rest on the ground. 

“Thought so,” Zayn says, watching him intensely, not even waiting for Harry to shake his head. “Only one solution then I'm afraid” his voice resigned. 

“I’m going to levitate you to make this easier for me, but it’s still going to be a bumpy ride” Zayn warns, before brandishing his wand and making Harry hover a few inches off the ground. 

Zayn loops his arms through Harry’s and drags him along like a parade float. They scale the stairs in the great hall, Harry bumping roughly into every other step, across the carpet on the 2nd floor, through a concealed doorway, and up three more flights of stairs, Zayn’s path practiced and purposeful. 

As Zayn drags him he hums, a soft and soothing melody that Harry finds incredibly comforting, Harry still can’t move any of his limbs but his vision does seem to be returning to normal. From what he can see of Zayn, he’s all dark haired and golden skin highlighted by the torch light in the corridor. He looks slightly older than Harry but significantly smaller, but then again who isn't. 

Zayn stops them in a small hallway on the fourth floor, in front of a beautiful emerald green doorway. Harry’s blood pumping too intensely to try and figure out exactly where they are or why they’re there, it’s his first week in the castle for crying out loud. 

Zayn, still holding Harry tight, raps sharply on the door, 3 fast, 2 slow, and places his palm flat on the wood. 

The door swings open. 

Eyes still aglow, Zayn drags Harry into a large fire lit room with cozy tartan accents. A large ornate armchair is arranged next to an even larger fireplace, and the flames within throw shadows across the entire room. 

Headmaster McGonagall is seated in the aforementioned chair, reading, wearing a floor length green velvet dressing gown, hair tied in a bun at the base of her head and a cup of tea floating in the air next to her. She looks up from her book at their arrival, she seems unsurprised to see Zayn at this hour. But raises a single precise eyebrow at Harry. 

He supposes that she might not recognize him in his current state even though he was sorted only a few days ago. Harry attempts to vocalize an introduction but all that comes out is a disturbing gurgle.

McGonagall raises the eyebrow further. By the look on her face something worth raising an already raised eyebrow has happened to him. Zayn is the first to speak. 

“Headmaster, this is Harry Styles, must be muggle born, from Hufflepuff” he pauses and considers his next words, brow furrowed. 

”He's changed,” Zayn says in a serious whisper.

There must have been some understanding between him and Headmaster McGonagall because her eyes sharpen and she stands at the word, drawing her wand. 

“I don’t think he can change back himself” Zayn explains, as she circles the pair, her wand performing some sort of intricate swirling movements as she paces. 

Harry is still struggling to return his features to normal as she circles. He’s never morphed anything outside of his eyes and face. Now his whole body feels too big for its skin, all tight and stretched like an elastic band. 

“Fascinating” Headmistress says, “He’s not Veela, the eyes aren’t right” she continues, eyes meeting Harry’s as he feels his eyes flash Zayn’s terrifying silver white. She pauses for a moment at that, nodding. 

He focuses on the feeling and manages to shift them back to emerald. 

McGonagall nods again and continues her circling. 

“Must be metamorphmagus then?” Posing the question in Zayn’s direction. He nods in agreement. 

“Better take him to Benjamin” Headmistress says finally, “I’m afraid he’s too.... blended” she says carefully “for me to untangle him, for lack of a proper term” 

She looks very kindly into Harry’s eyes, holding firm at emerald, and gives his arm a comforting pat. 

“You can use my fire to get there, take a moment to prepare and I’ll send word you are coming” she finishes as she turns toward a large portrait of a silver haired witch with kind looking eyes. 

“Dilys, go to your second painting and alert the healers we have an untrained metamorph coming in.” She instructs. 

The witch in the painting nods, stands up, and walks backwards through the door in the background behind her. 

Harry's heart is racing, veins icy, and skin still tight and stretched, unable to move he waits. 

Zayn and Headmaster McGonagall move around the room grabbing random things off shelves and speaking in half sentences, their movements complementary and familiar. He only has a few moments to himself before Zayn is maneuvering him toward a familiar green flame fireplace. 

Zayn looks in his direction, "don’t know if you’ve ever used Floo before” Zayn says, “but I’ll be there to catch you on the other side” and with that he steps into the flames pulling Harry with him as they whoosh away into the swirling darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!! I have the next chapter mostly written and then another chapter tbd but honestly i'm hoping that readers will have some comments or ideas for the direction as i'm kind of just winging it. Let me know how you feel.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments and suggestions if you feel like it!


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